For three months, Norah tried to ignore her grandmother, but the elder lady, having lived through more than Norah could imagine, was persistent to a fault.
"I told you before, Nan, I'm not interested."
"Ah, pish, what do you know? You're cursed with laziness, my dear. And it hasn't escaped me that this trait features strongly on your father's side."
"Would you stop? I'm not writing a letter to a stupid tree."
"Stupid tree. Stupid. Tree. Good heavens, girl." Her grandmother leapt from the kitchen table and came within inches of her face. "You're over thirty. You've had a string of spineless gits for boyfriends. Don't you want something real?"
Norah swallowed, and slumped against the counter. "Of course I do, Nan. But writing a letter to a tree? Honestly. I know you're old and soft in the head, but this is asking a bit much."
Nan pointed at the kitchen table. "You. Sit." She waited for Norah to obey before fetching an old chocolate box from her bedroom. She took the chair opposite Norah's and sifted through the contents and retrieved a photograph. The inscription on the back made her smile. She handed the sepia print to Norah.
"Grandpa? He was handsome."
"His name was Eddie."
Norah's eyes stretched. "You cheated on Grandpa?"
"No." She took the photograph back. "And now I'm not sure I want to tell you this story."
"Please, Nan. I promise I won't argue."
"You'd better make some more tea."
*
It was 1953, and I had just finished high school. For the first time in ages, people were smiling, and we were allowed to get excited about new fashions and colours and music. The world seemed to be full of goodness again, even though we knew things would never be the same. My brother, Bernard, was one of the few who made it back from the War, but he made us promise we'd never talk about it. When he began drinking heavily, we didn't talk about that either.
Nevertheless, I remember it was a beautiful Summer, and we were excited about starting our new lives. Some of the girls in my year were engaged to be married, some of us were planning on attending colleges or finishing schools. Not me. I wanted to travel. That August, I convinced my father to let me borrow his car for the weekend, and I took my best friends Leonie, Marta and Christine with me. We planned to camp in the Dodauer Forest, near Eutin, about two hours north of Hamburg. In fact, Norah, if you ever go to the Great Eutin Lake, I recommend that you find the mermaid sculpture by Karlheinz Goedtke. It's beautiful. Anyway, the reason we chose Dodauer Forest was because Leonie had an aunt who lived in Eutin, just in case we had an emergency. And I think it made my mother feel better to know that someone responsible would be nearby. Not that I was irresponsible, but the War had changed everyone.
But the reason I wanted to go to the forest was because of the Bräutigamseiche, or the Bridegroom's Oak. I remembered my grandmother telling me the story of Minna who fell in love with Wilhelm, a man with a heart as sweet as the chocolate he made. However, Minna's father had great ambitions for her: he wanted her to marry a man of great fortune or title, but preferably both. In defiance of her father, Minna and Wilhelm began exchanging love letters which they hid in a hollow of the tree. For over a year, the young lovers wrote passionate exchanges, and their love grew deeper and stronger with each passing day. As they say, fortune favours the brave, and it seems the tree worked its magic on Minna's father and opened his heart. He finally gave his consent, and, by way of thanking their tree, Minna married Wilhelm under its branches in the Summer of 1891.
I told you it was Summer then, didn't I? Well, I had big plans to find myself a Summer Lover. I didn't care if he married me or not. I was... Well, still am independent. I just wanted to see if those old stories about the tree were true. I suppose you could say it was my first foray into investigative journalism. We only had the car for the weekend, so I prepared well. I convinced Leonie and Christine to do it too; Marta already had a boyfriend. So we wrote letters in which we described ourselves and what kind of partner we wanted. I had never written anything so bold, and I was quite proud of myself. We drove to Eutin and visited Leonie's aunt, who was kind enough to telephone our parents and let them know we'd arrived. I was itching to visit the tree. I'd never been so antsy in my life. Finally, we left Leonie's aunt and headed to the forest.
It was evening, but so light you'd have thought it was afternoon. We hiked the trail that pointed to the old oak, giggling like the schoolgirls that we were. It's a glorious tree. So big, in fact, that we had to use the ladder to get up to the knot where the post is kept. Leonie was afraid of heights and Christine didn't like the look of the ladder, so I clambered up, shouting at them to hold it steady. I made sure my letter was on top of the pile, you know, just in case. But when I got there, I saw another envelope. It was small enough to fit into my palm. The rule is that you can leave a letter and take one, but if you don't like the letter you pick, you must put it back for someone else to find. I remember that I suddenly felt shy about leaving my letter there. But then Marta complained about needing to use the bathroom, so I dumped our envelopes and joined them on the ground. I never told anyone about the envelope I took.
Well, we had a wonderful time camping and swimming and hiking. It was safe enough to do that in those days. When we got back home, Christine had received a letter from a man called Günther who she dated for about three years. I always thought he was a bit old for her, but Christine refused to listen. Leonie didn't get a reply, but met her partner Brümhilde at college. I waited six months before I opened the letter I'd taken. There was nothing inside except this photograph and an address. I plucked up the courage to send him my own picture, and Eddie replied within a week.
*
"What I don't understand, Nan, is that you've never mentioned Eddie before."
"He was the love of my life. Don't misunderstand. I adored your grandfather and we really were happy together. But I never felt for him what I feel for Eddie."
"Geez, and here I was thinking that you and Grandpa were my relationship goals."
"We were. But I want you to have what I had with Eddie."
"So you're saying it's possible to love someone more than you loved Grandpa?"
Nan's eyes brimmed and overflowed.
"Then why did you marry Grandpa?"
"Because Eddie asked me to."
*
He was more eloquent than any of the boys I knew, because most men stay boys until they're at least thirty. And Eddie was a champion storyteller. He wrote such riveting accounts of his life, his work and his friends. I could never do him justice by trying to tell you all the details now, but I realised after the fourth letter that I was in love with him. Like my brother, Eddie had survived the war. But although he was physically all right, his life had been maimed in a different way. You see, he was convinced he'd not come back, so he married his high school sweetheart to ensure that she'd always be provided for. The war had changed them both, and although he tried hard to make it work, he couldn't. Divorce was out of the question for both of them. Eddie had hoped to find other veterans when he wrote to the tree, which is why he sent the picture of himself in his uniform. He never intended for it to fall into the hands of someone like me.
We met once. It was a nightmare to organise, and before you start calling me all kinds of names, I want you to understand that everything I did is because I love him, and I knew he loved me too. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the soap on his shirt and feel the impressions of his hands on my back. Everything about that night was beautiful.
When I got back home, a letter was waiting for me. Your grandfather had found my note and written. He was witty and had kind eyes. He was also a bit younger than Eddie. My mother found me reading the letter and encouraged me to reply. I was torn. I loved Eddie and would have waited for him, but I also wanted a family, so I couldn't wait too long. I wrote to Eddie and asked him what to do.
*
"He broke your heart, Nan."
"No, he talked sense into me. It was the right thing for both of us."
"Well, he should have tried harder."
"You said you weren't going to argue. And, besides, without your grandfather, you wouldn't be here."
Norah sighed and leant against her chair back. "I didn't think this story would have such a sad ending. You're not doing a very good job of selling this tree-letter thing to me."
"I thought you might say that." Nan placed an envelope on the table. It was addressed to Norah. "I decided to give fate a little nudge. This arrived for you yesterday."
"What? Nan, I told you I didn't want to do that. Please tell me you didn't send a picture of me from high school."
"So you are curious."
Norah scowled at her.
"Oh, go on, then." Nan stood and cleared the cups from the table. She began washing them at the sink, and smiled when she heard the rip of paper. As she dried the cups, she cast a glance at Norah, who was grinning. "I'll be in my bedroom if you need me," she said, taking the box and Eddie's photograph with her. Her earthly work was finally done.
_
If you'd like to read more about the Bräutigamseiche of Dodauer Forest, I can recommend this article from the BBC Travel page.
No comments:
Post a Comment